A Motley Fool
by Mikitsu Silverquick
Summary: You find the most unexpected things in the most unexpected of people. Flip x Camille. Based off plot and characters from the Little Nemo movie. 30 Lies prompts
1. Chapter 1

A Motley Fool –Ch1: Why Does the Caged Bird Sing? - [prompt#9 _tangled web] [Flip/Camille]

_-The caged bird sings  
with fearful trill  
of the things unknown  
but longed for still-_

It had always been Morpheus's intent for his sole heir to marry his daughter – it was never spoken, not even to himself, but it was an assumption his entire court, and, thus, himself had held. Princess Camille was the daughter of the King; she carried the ancient blue blood of past sovereigns. She held the strength, the honour, the pride, in tiny, indigo veins that spread like rivers under her snowy skin. To keep that strength, that honour, that pride, the majesty of the lineage needed to passed on. The reality that transpired was not what had been envisioned.

Nemo could come and go to Slumberland as he pleased, but he could not _stay_ as he willed. He would stay in his future kingdom for days, sometimes weeks, but then he would fade away like sunshine blotted out by a passing cloud. His distance between his absences seemed random. He would be there one day, gone the next, and then reappear the following days. More often than not, his departures were marked with lengthy absences, extending weeks, and, upon occasion, months. It was the blight of having the future heir being someone not born of Slumberland, but of that other world that theirs rarely touched. Being in inexistence for long periods of times does not bode well for romances, nor does it give the proper time and etiquette for wooing a noblewoman such as Camille.

It was all well and good when they were young – they were inseparable friends and playmates. People whispered that it would work out, it would just take patience. It was like waiting for the flowers to grow, they said. Without sunshine, though, flowers cannot grow, no matter the care or the amount of water. As the pair grew older, they still remained close, but it was closeness that two people receive after spending adventures with each other in days of sunny skies, and moon-lined nights. The seeds were sown but never grew into anything tremendous. Patience, was what they whispered, conspiring in corners. They are young yet.

They grew. They passed the age where their imagination seemed to sate them, like most children do. They still retained the necessary belief in the fantastical belonging to those of Slumberland, but it lost its shine. Slumberland was a magical place, but eventually, if the foreigner gets used to its glamour and glitz, it almost becomes mundane. Camille retreated to her books and music. Nemo was always suffering through lessons of some sort or the other. The time they were able to make for each other had them spend it leisurely in the gardens; talking about what had transpired since they had seen each other last, or about the serious and supposing content of the books they had read. Sometimes they would exchange gifts, but it was the gifts that old friends gave to each other – knowing each other in that safe way one knows the worn edges of a favoured sweater.

They passed that awkward stage of self known as adolescence. Both struggled independently to know their identity – what did they know of themselves, and was it the truth, could it be changed? Though they both experienced their changes in similar expanses of time, when they grew into their adults forms --wrapping themselves in the cocoon so they would form into butterflies -- they experienced it singularly, as people do. When they finally shed some things and grew into others, they both were shadows of the children they once were. They were still close, but there was that ghostly image the other saw – the child from before.

Camille grew into the grace she once held so proudly as a child, but this time it was not feigned. Her figure was slim, her hair long. She retained the high, noble forehead, but her pert nose had straightened. Nemo no longer was towered over, he was the one that dominated the room with a presence – though still not as impressive as Morpheus's grand stature. Sharp angles shaped the baby fat from Nemo's face, leaving not a boy, but a young man. His innocent brown eyes lost their naïveté, but there was still a jocund twinkle. The only thing that didn't seem to truly change was his untameable mane of brown hair.

They made a handsome couple together, people would twitter. A match made in heaven. As children, they were never aware of the pressure, the expectations, that was placed on them. As they stepped into the world as adults, the hopes of the court was brushing, resting, on their skin like the humid air of a hot summer. They attempted, with fumbling kisses, and unseasoned touches (believing it was meant to be), but it fell apart like cobwebs, the delicacy of what they were trying being torn apart by their lack of experience and knowledge. The line that connected the two was sibling affection, and nothing would change that. Not the wishes of the court, King Morpheus, or even their own.

Camille and Nemo recognized this for what it was, but still the pressure remained. Nemo was provided with escapism – he always had to return to his world sooner or later. He was free to do as he wished; he had all the gratifications men find in having a second life, but none of the repercussions. The nature of Nemo granted him his duality. Camille was trapped. No chance of escapism was offered to her by the powers that be. She was forced to feel the constant pressure of the wants and needs of the courts smothering her. It was worse than a hot humid day in high summer: it was a steaming hot, wet, woollen blanket covering her face. There were moments were she felt like she couldn't breathe and she would shatter into pieces, revealing her soul for the nobles to pour over like a crossword; writing down the words in ink, and crossing it with violent lines when it was later proven wrong. Even in sleep she was haunted by the whispers. The only thing she could do was read her books, play her harp, and disappear from Slumberland for a couple hours.

The unspoken agreement of the nobles in court had determined their fate; there didn't seem to another option. By Slumberland law, Nemo, as the heir would have to marry eventually when he became King. Politics trapped him to Camille – it would be an insult to the man who had named him Prince, if he did not take her hand in matrimony. If a suitor had taken an interest in Camille, it might be avoided. Nemo might be the heir by decree, but Camille held more power because of the ancient blood running in the rivers of her body. If she took another of her choosing, the courts would grumble but they would not interfere. There was no suitor though.

Not to say that there were not number of willing suitors – Camille was a shining jewel, brimming with energy from her beauty and youth. She captivated, and entranced. She was the flame for the moth. It was the fact that age and being provided the examples of _true_ men (her father, the Professor, and Nemo) had granted Camille the ability to see the fops and the dressed up dandies for what they were; men who saw the glimmer of her beauty, her title, her power, not Camille herself. She would rather spend her life in a half-marriage with Nemo than spend her long life suffering with an idiot who had dreams of voyageurs in power.

In situations that women find themselves caged in similar ways to Camille, there starts to be a seed of resentment. Nemo could leave, she could not. She was a princess, his superior, not to mention his senior by a few years; she knew that in his second (or was it first?) life there were women that Nemo didn't mention, but accidently let slip – like water sloshing over the rim of a overfilled bucket – that he was _seeing_. Somewhere deep in her pride, this burned, but whether it was from the fact that he was seeing other women when the court had silently decided unanimously they were soon to be engaged, or the fact he held this secret from her.

With agitation brewing in her bones, and with resentment coveted in the darker parts of her heart, she couldn't help but distance herself from Nemo. He did notice, slowly, but he had no idea why it was happening or how to fix it. Not that his increasingly difficult and lengthy lessons were taking more and more time, and required more attention from him. It was surprisingly easy how they both could find excuses to avoid one another. The childhood affection still tied them, but it was starting to gray and loose its tangible shimmer; when their lives did touch in brief moments, the tie between the two seemed to echo with hallowed crying.

Their lives had become messes that could not be untangled with the finest of combs. Camille would wonder in quiet moments if this was what growing up was supposed to be – complicated threads and knots that went everywhere, and tugged you along like a puppet on a string. The thought put an odd hallow feeling in her heart.

Yet, for all the changes that had occurred, there were some things, and people, who refused to bend to the wheel of time's will; one particular person seemed to enjoy blowing indiscreet raspberries in Father Time's face.

"Hello, Princessy."

Camille did not bother looking up from her book. She had smelled the distinct smell of his cigars before she had ever heard him.

Turning a page, she sighed, "Go away, Flip, that's an order. I don't have time for you."

She could hear him pacing, practically frolicking, in defiance behind her, "Last time I checked the gardens were public grounds. So that would make your order rather pointless."

She sighed again. "Nemo's not here, if that what you wanted. I think he's taking equestrian lessons. Go check the stables. I'm sure you'll find him."

"Now, what makes you think I came looking for the kid? Did it ever occur to you that maybe I came looking for you?"

At this she couldn't help but turn around so she could see him, her profile to him, and give a look that clearly said how absurd a thought she believed that was. She held it for a minute, before turning back to her book with a huff.

"Geez, Princessy, moody much?"

Her book closed with an angry snap. She turned around again, her eyebrows pulled down in agitation, "Flip, why are you here."

He looked nonchalant, tapping the ashes from his cigar with a finger. "I think I already answered your question once, Princessy."

A glare glowed from her eyes at the nickname. "Well, repeat it again. And put out that disgusting cigar, I thought Nemo and I ordered you to stay away from those things."

Her nose wrinkled in irritation at both the smell of the cigar and Flip's usual flippant attitude. Grinning, he placed the cigar back between his teeth. "Let a man have his vices, Princess. And, like I said, I came to see you."

She maintained her glare; though she couldn't help the curiosity that dragged the question, "Why?" out of her lips.

He shrugged. "Can't an old friend pay a visit?"

She snorted. "Flip, we're hardly friends, let alone _old_ friends."

Flip had the gall to look surprised at Camille's venom – as if he had expected something else. A curious expression crossed his features, and he came forward. The princess instantly found herself the subject of intense scrutiny by the trickster, who hovered around like an archivist pouring over a difficult passage. As his eyes passed over her, making the occasional "huh" and "hmm" sounds, Camille couldn't help the blush that coloured her cheeks. When she reached the point where she couldn't take the visual study of her person anymore, she spit out, "What?"

Flip leaned back, his one hand holding his chin in a thoughtful pose, his eyes still lingering. "I was right."

Surprise flavoured her voice. "Right? Right, about what?"

A smug look crossed his lips, as he announced his findings with a finger snap. "You _are _moody. Tell me, Princessy, is it that time of the month?"

There was a moment where Camille felt weakened by the surprise that overtook her, which was instantly followed by red anger. She couldn't believe he had said what he just did! How inappropriate for a gentleman to ask a lady such a question! Not to mention a princess!

"Flip! How _dare _you! You – you – you!" She stood up from the low bench she had been occupying. Sitting, Flip was as tall as she, but standing, she towered over him by at least a good foot. Flip grinned widely as she thought of a word adequate enough for him.

"You depraved degenerate!" Flip's grin just grew at the name she flew viciously at him.

Taking a couple of puffs from his cigar he glanced her up and down again before leaning forward on his toes. "Anyone tell you you're kind of cute when you're mad?"

Fingers clenched into fists. She had the sudden urge to indulge herself and punch him like she had as a child. Her thoughts must have been revealed in her eyes because Flip skipped out of reach. "Lovely seeing you, Princessy."

"Flip! You unmoral base cretin!" She screeched after him, as she hiked her skirts to chase after him. "How dare you speak to me like that! Get _back _here!"

_-__and his tune is heard  
on the distant hill  
for the caged bird  
sings of freedom.-_


	2. Chapter 2

A Motley Fool - Ch2: It's Raining, It's Pouring – [prompt#28_keeping track] [Flip/Camille]

_-Rain, rain, go away-_

"Go away, Nemo. I don't want to talk to you right now."

Camille was sitting in one of the open-concept lounges in the heart of the palace, her figure stretched out the chaise couch. Her blue silk dress flowed over curves, the skirt pooling over her legs, her satin slippers peeking out from underneath. A canvas-bound book was lying by one propped elbow – she hadn't looked up from it even though she had reread the same passage three times.

"You keep confusing me with the kid, Princess. If you're not careful you're going to hurt my feelings."

At the sound of Flip's voice, Camille's head snapped up in surprise. He wasn't what she had expected. Closing her eyes she took a deep breath. Her voice sounded tired as she spoke. "What are you doing here, Flip?"

"What, no 'hello, how are you'?" Flip countered cheerfully.

Camille couldn't help but release another sigh. _I'm not in the mood for this._ When she opened her eyes again, she found Flip standing near the head of the couch, shoulder leaning on the couch back: his hands in his pants' pockets, jacket pushed back to reveal a brilliant orange vest.

"No. Just do us both of a favour and leave me alone. And tell Nemo to grow up and that he should do his own grovelling."

A look of concern and confusion was worn on the trickster's face. "I think I'm missing something here."

She gave him a look of irritation, but it was weak and watery. "You mean Nemo didn't send you?"

Flip shrugged. "No, I haven't seen him. I didn't even know he was back. Are you two having a little lover's quarrel? How charming."

The princess rolled eyes. "We're not having a 'lover's quarrel' you twit. Just a regular argument, that Nemo started, _as_ _usual_," she couldn't help but spit the words out with rancour.

Flip raised his eyebrows in surprise at Camille's words. "What he'd do? It must have been impressive, because _I'm_ usually the one who gets that angry tone of yours, Princess."

Camille flipped onto her back with a haughty sniff. "I'd rather not discuss it." It was true; she had no desire to speak to Flip, or anyone really, about why she was so mad at Nemo. Mainly because she was worried she would come across as petty. Why should she care if Nemo pranced around with love bites hiding not-so-inconspicuously under his collar from his lower-class girlfriend from the Other Side? She shouldn't, she knew his feelings towards her, and it was platonic. Just like her feelings for him. The rationalizations did nothing, though, to prevent her jealousy of the fact that Nemo was a in a relationship, while she was not. Worse, she had no one to talk to! Not even to her beloved Bonbon, who, like everyone else, probably thought _she _was probably responsible for the marks. So the jealousy was forced to stew until she had overreacted to Nemo being Nemo and caused their quarrel over nothing. It wasn't Nemo's fault, not really, but she couldn't let herself claim the blame to their argument. It was such a mess.

"You sure?" Flip asked.

"I'm positive," the princess responded.

The jokester made a humming noising in the back of throat, as if he was in the middle of a decision, before he made his way to the small coffee table in front of Camille and sat on the other side. Sitting cross-legged on the floor, he pulled a deck of cards from his jacket pocket, shuffled it, and then dealt it out in front of him into little stacks. After he had dealt the appropriate number of cards, he flipped the top card on every stack to reveal its face before he started to move them about.

Camille watched a few minutes, curious, before the whole absurdity of the situation overcame her. "Flip, what you doing?"

He looked up at her from his cards before he went back to the game. "I do believe this is called solitaire, Princessy. It's a very simple game. See, what you have to is --"

"I know what solitaire is, Flip. What I mean is, _why_ are you playing it." Camille's book lay open and forgotten; talking to Flip required more attention than it deserved.

"Well," Flip paused as he thought, "it's one of the few games of cards that you can play by yourself. I also happen to be fond of solitaire; it requires some thinking, but nothing too strenuous, like reading for example. I have a horrible time finding a book I like. They're all so boring. See with solitaire, it's never boring because you never know what you're going to get. It's all about Lady Luck."

Camille had to will herself to not sigh in exasperation. Trust Flip to answer the question, yet avoid it at the same time. "That's nice, Flip," sarcasm dripped from her words, "but why are you playing it _here? _ I'm sure there are other places that would be better suited."

Flip shook his head as he continued to play his game. "Why not? It's quiet here, practically peaceful. The company isn't that bad either."

Camille didn't know whether to take the last comment as sarcasm or flattery, so she decided to forget about it all together. "Fine, do what you want. Just be quiet and don't disturb me."

Flip answered with a short salute and a grin. Camille rolled her eyes and went back to her book. It was surprisingly peaceful, despite Flip's presence. She totally forgot he was even there, and she was finally to get further along with her reading. She didn't know when he left, but she only realized it when Bonbon came to fetch her, hours later.

Bonbon reached out to collect the cards that were still scattered in a half-played game of solitaire. Camille stopped her friend before the unfinished game was disturbed. "Leave it, Bonbon, please."

"Do you wish to save the game for tomorrow, milady?" Bonbon asked her interest piqued. Her lady was a tidy individual who hated to leave a mess behind.

"No. Yes, well, no," Camille flustered, "They're not my cards. They belong to somebody else."

Her curiosity caught, Bonbon couldn't help but ask, "Whose, milady?"

"A friend," Camille said begrudgingly. She hated lying to Bonbon: Flip was a not a friend, more of an acquaintance, if anything, but she knew that the reaction to Flip's name would be negative. Though he had been officially pardoned for his transgressions due to his involvement in retrieving her father (that he also had been partially responsible for), he was still not incredibly well liked; Nemo and Icarus seemed the only people who could tolerate him for any long lengths of time. Flip sneaking around the palace without anyone knowing was going to cause a stir that wasn't all that deserved in her opinion. He had just been playing cards, harmless enough, even for Flip.

"I'll let the servants know not to disturb it then! Shall we go for supper, milady?"

Camille nodded, and she decided to put card games and tricksters out of her mind.

xXxXxXxX

Curiosity led Camille back the lounge the next day. She found the cards right where they had been left. She hadn't known what to expect – she had half-guessed that Flip might have come back during the night to spirit them away. Instead, they lying there, abandoned. She nestled herself comfortably back on the couch and decided to read her book for a little while before real life took control of her life again.

She wasn't sure how Flip managed to be so sneaky, especially in those boats on his feet that he called shoes. When she looked up from reading he was there again, continuing his game from yesterday. She continued to read, listening to the quiet, slick sounds of cards being flipped, and when it was close to the time she had to go about her appointments, she noticed Flip had vanished again, leaving a whole new game of solitaire unfinished.

This pattern went on for several days. She would go to the lounge, sit on the chaise and read for a few hours. Flip would conjure himself up across from her, and then he'd just as silently disappear an unknown time later. She had expected to resent Flip for intruding on her peace and quiet, but she didn't. There was a peaceable, almost companionable air between the two of them as they indulged themselves in different activities.

It was on the fifth day that Bonbon made a comment that Camille couldn't help but find hilarious. They were walking towards the dining hall, leaving the lounge with a new, and, again, unfinished, game of solitaire on the coffee table, behind them. "I envy you, Princess Camille."

"And why is that Bonbon?" Camille asked, walking beside one of her oldest friends.

Bonbon replied with enthusiasm. "It must be wonderful to have a friend like yours! They're always checking up on you while Nemo is being a silly boy and not talking to you! You probably don't even miss him!"

The red-headed princess blinked owlishly at her dear friend before she laughed loudly. It echoed down the hall, ringing clear and happy. Bonbon looked at Camille, confused. At her friend's expression, Camille couldn't help but laugh harder. She couldn't help, though; it wasn't her fault that Bonbon didn't really understand the joke.

_-Come again some other day-_


	3. Chapter 3

A Motley Fool – Ch3: [A Push in the Right Direction] – [prompt#4_Being Watched] [Flip/Camille]

- _ "An adventure is only an inconvenience rightly considered. An inconvenience is only an adventure wrongly considered." -_

Camille, reclining on one of those foldable beach chairs, still couldn't quite figure out how she had been roped into this excursion. Usually when Nemo and Flip decided to go off on one of their little adventures they had the sense to leave her out of it, but, somehow, they had convinced her to come along: she wasn't sure who really won her over, Nemo with his begging, or Flip with his nonchalant attitude. Even the Professor had come along – to chaperone, he said (it wasn't _proper_ for a lady like herself to go and gavotting with men, however unlikely the situation). The plan was fairly simple – just take a leisurely boat ride on the lake and find a suitable, preferably lonely, inlet to go swimming in. It was meant to be a day of relaxation.

She originally was determined to hate the whole thing, just because she thought she'd be bored to tears and that she felt like she had been corned into going. It turned out it was more enjoyable than she originally thought. It reminded her of the old days, back when Nemo was still getting used to the idea of being her father's heir. It had been fun to listen to the friendly bickering and chiding of the Professor and Flip towards Nemo and each other; both Flip and the Professor had a tendency to drop the friendliness tone when talking to each other. She thought their dynamics were the funniest things she had seen in a good long while, but being the lady that she was she kept it bottled inside. She was practically brimming with mirth at this point and it only showed in the way the corners of her mouth curled.

Currently, the Professor was dozing away down below in the small cabin and both Flip and Nemo were sunning on the other side of the deck after spending good gracious how long in the cold water. Camille had not actually gone swimming, not even dipping her feet in the water like the good Professor did to cool off. She had been staying on the edge of the social circle for once; Flip and Nemo might have invited her along but she still felt like she had didn't quite belong. She had stayed out of the water and the sun, complaining she didn't want to freckle, or saying she wanted to keep Icarus company. Of course this raised complaints on all sides; at least Icarus was more than happy with her company and had no such arguments. He seemed to really enjoy napping in her lap while she read a book in the shade, the laughter and splashing of Nemo and Flip echoing off the water in the background. She had rather enjoyed it, too; she had even started to get nostalgic.

"What you doing?" a voice crooned in her ear.

Camille had to restrain herself from sighing aloud. Flip had the attention span of a gnat and the energy to tire out a hyper active child, so it was only logical that with Nemo exhausted and the Professor unapproachable, she would be the target of Flip's attention.

Previous encounters had taught her to ignore the trickster as much as possible and not to rise to the bait. He was making particularly difficult this round because she could _feel _the soft puffs of his breath against the shell of her ear. To say her personal space was being violated was an understatement. Pretending indifference, the princess responded, "I'm reading, of course. What do you think I'm doing?"

She heard Flip snort softly, "Why is it every time I turn around you have a book in your hands? You honestly need to live a little."

"I live just fine, thank you very much," she replied indignant.

"Of course, Princess, I'm sure you do. As much as I would _hate _to detract you from what I'm sure is a _riveting _book, there's something you really have to see."

"Fine," she huffed, closing her book with a hand. She settled the book next to her chair where Icarus was dozing. Normally, she wouldn't have indulged the trickster so soon (if at all) but she felt desperate to distance herself from Flip. Having him breathing and whispering in her ear was far too intimate for her liking, and it tickled. It had taken tremendous effort not to wriggle around or flinch with every word he spoke. The smell of river water, dampness and old cigar smoke was also disconcerting.

Flip was clearly surprised at her easy acquiescence. "Uh, it's this way."

She followed him around to the back of the boat, her short skirt swishing. Though she hadn't gone swimming she was still wearing the proper attire for it – a one piece navy-blue outfit. It had legs that reminded her of old bloomers that hung straight down like a pair of trousers to the middle of her calf. A skirt encircled her middle that fell above her knees and the top part had cap sleeves. She honestly couldn't understand how women could swim in so much material. The few memories of swimming that she possessed were from when she was much younger and had the option of going swimming without the hindrance of clothes.

Despite the amount of material involved with her swim attire, at least she looked classy. Flip's outfit was like most men's swimming suits –a one piece thing that was baggy and had short sleeves and pantlegs – except it was a blinding combination of bold lime green and bright sunburst orange stripes. The colour choices ought to be considered to be indecent but the blinding mess was made all the more perplexing with Flips usually hidden bald spot showing, dark chest hair peeking at the neckline, and his normal flesh-coloured limbs contrasting with his green face. It wasn't the usual visual nightmare that she felt accosted with.

"Still there, Princessy, or are you still thinking about that book? Or perhaps about a handsome prince?" Flip teased. He had hopped over the railing at the back of the boat. Standing cautiously on the back lip of the boat he looked at her expectantly.

"What was it that you wanted to show me, Flip?" she said as drifted close enough to lean against the railing. She made sure there was enough distance between the two of them so there would be no more ear breathing.

"It's just right there," said Flip, pointing vaguely to the water.

She leaned out, but couldn't see anything, and said as much.

Smiling, Flip remarked, "Well of course you can't. You're not at the right angle. You have to be over here."

The princess weighed the decision in her mind, before she hopped over the railing to join Flip. It was harder to do than it looked but at least she didn't fall in the water. With a firm grip on the railing behind her, she continued to look.

"Flip," she almost wanted to whine, "I'm honestly not seeing anything. What am I supposed to be looking for?"

Gentling, almost consoling Flip commented, "Don't worry, you'll know it when you see it. You just have to be right where I'm standing."

She gave a dry look before shuffling closer, their hips almost brushing. "Still not seeing anything."

She heard a sigh from Flip, and she felt a hand gentling grip her hip, jostling her closer to him. "Like I _said,_ you have to be where I am. Any better?"

Feeling uncomfortably close to her short companion she was more aware of the hand lightly fisted in the back of her swimsuit than anything she was supposed to be seeing. Feigning indifference, she said simply, "No, it's not any better. I'm starting to think you're pulling a joke on me, Flip."

"Who, me? I would never," she heard him laugh. "Just try leaning forward a little. You honestly just have to be at the perfect angle."

Sighing, she did as she was suggested, even wobbling on her tiptoes. Flip's hand kept her from leaning too far and losing her balance.

Sighing, she began, "Flip-" when she felt the warm hand at the small of back give a small shove. There was a moment where she hung in the air like a top before it topples, before she fell into the shockingly cold lake with a screech. She resurfaced moments later feeling the cold water clinging to her like a second cold-blooded skin. She was feeling furious. She opened her mouth to scream her indignation when _someone_ cannonballed into the water right next to her. She got a mouth full of river water which she sputtered out.

The incorrigible blackheart popped up a few metres away with a wicked grin on his face. She opened her mouth to start her tirade but a splash to the face cut her short. Apparently, Camille was pretty funny when she was soaked and seething, if Flip's laughter was any measure. Eyes narrowed dangerously she decided to fight fire with fire; in this case, water with water. The jokester's laughs were cut short when he had to spit out the lake water he swallowed. Camille had done her best to shove a wave of water at him, and it had worked remarkably well. His eyes gleamed mischief for a moment before he retaliated with a large splashing wave of his own.

It quickly turned into a water fight, and Camille's screams of fury were turning to screams of laughter and giggles. Flip's heavier laughter was ringing in her ears amid her own.

She'd never admit it but it was the most fun she had had on the trip, or at all for a long time.

_- "I believe in getting into hot water - it helps keep you clean." -_


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: Huh, I thought I posted this chapter, but apparently not. Forgive me for the rather sporadic update. Been busy with school and stuff._

A Motley Fool – Ch4: [The Sacrifice] – [prompt#3_Cover Up] [Flip/Camille]

_- Fool me once, shame on you –_

The rain glided down delicate, serpentine trails on the tall panes of glass that made up the walls of the hot house. The raindrops splattered across the windows; all the colours and the shapes outside were blurred, making it look like one was looking at a painting by Monet. It was dreamy and surreal. _It's like a dream half remembered,_ Camille thought as she stared out. Her chin was propped on one hand and the other hand rested demurely in her lap. She had to keep herself from huffing in aggravation. _Just enjoy the view,_ she had to remind herself.

"You know, I think I've had more fun watching paint dry," a voice commented off to her left. Camille forced herself not to roll her eyes.

"Hey, I'm sorry that you're bored, Flip. Really, I am, but what do want me to do? Chess is a two-person game, and me and Camille are in the middle of a match. That, and it's raining like cats and dogs out there!" Nemo argued back.

"Camille, and _I_, Nemo," the princess corrected, her attention coming back to the chess board. Nemo ignored her, his focus on the chess pieces. He was losing, badly, like it he usually did. It should be considered a ritual.

Camille had made the mistake of offering a friendly match of chess on miserable day like this, years ago. Nemo had lost. And he had lost the following games he had challenged her too. It had become to the point of obsession to Nemo to beat her, at least once, in his life. Camille had quickly gotten tired of the constant games, especially since it was no challenge to her whatsoever (though Nemo w_as _improving, however slowly). She also got quickly tired of a sullen Nemo when he inevitably lost. She had finally convinced Nemo that she being preferred chess on days that didn't lend her to enjoy the fresh air. It had saved her, to a point; she was now forever doomed to play chess on days that kept them inside.

A sharp _clink _indicated when Nemo finally decided where to move his chess piece. Camille let her gaze fall on her side of the board. She already had a fairly good idea of what her next move was but she wanted to extend her turn as long as possible. She didn't want the game to finish before the rain ended, and be trapped playing another until the end, regardless of whether the weather cleared up.

"It's not raining _that_ much, Nemo. Bet we could make it to the palace if we run," Flip proposed his hands deep in his waistcoat pockets.

Nemo looked to Camille, raising an eyebrow to ask if she approved of such a daring plan. In response, Camille glared at Nemo and then at Flip before hissing, "This is _silk_ taffeta. I refuse to go running in the rain."

"It's just a little rain, Princessy. I know you're temper is terribly wicked, but I'm sure you won't melt."

Camille glared, "Ha. Ha. Very funny, Flip. If you were as smart as your remarks you might know that silk can stain from water."

A smirk played across the trickster's face, before he sauntered to where Nemo and herself were playing. "I think that counts a compliment, coming from you, Princess."

"If that's what you think," Camille moved her knight to capture one of Nemo's rooks, "then I'll have to create a stronger analogy. One that's not too complicated for you, perhaps?"

The jokester just gave her a flippant smile that gritted and grated against the Princess's nerves. Trust Flip not to say anything, and still manage to aggravate her.

Nemo glared pointedly at board, biting his lower lip in concentration. Nemo's hand would occasionally hover over the board, like a nervous bird, but he changed his mind before he touched a piece. Camille knew it was going to be a while before he made a decision. _Maybe I should introduce timed turns to the matches? It might end the agony sooner._

Camille's drifting attention by sharp sound of a chair being dragged across the floor. When she turned to look, Flip flung himself into his new-found seat next to Nemo and was urgently whispering to a bewildered Nemo.

Camille couldn't help the incredulous note in her voice, "Flip, what are doing?"

The older man gave her a smile that showed his teeth, "Helping?"

The princess responded with a flat look, "Flip, chess is a two-person game; you can't have a third person playing."

"I'm not playing, Princessy, I'm just helping. Can't I help a fellow down on his luck?"

"I think that's cheating, Flip," Nemo commented.

The trickster flashed them both with an unctuous smile. "Only if you want to think of it that way. Besides," he continued before Camille could argue, "I'm not all that terribly bright, remember Princessy? Certainly not as smart as you with your high-bred education, now am I? So really, I'm more moral support than anything. Whaddya say?"

Camille discreetly rubbed one of her temples. "Nemo, do you want Flip's help?"

Nemo looked between his two friends, Camille looking haggard and Flip looking earnest. "Um, I don't mind, I guess? I could use the help anyways."

"Fine," Camille stated, "your move."

The rest of the chess match went as Camille more or less expected. Nemo continued to lose, horribly. Flip was more or less useless. The tactics he used were obvious and amateurish. When he actually moved the pieces the right way. _At least it's almost over,_ the princess couldn't help but think. The light summer rain had finally stopped and they were in the end game. After she won, Camille was free until another rainy day.

Camille moved a piece that was guarding her king to capture Flip's queen – the man had been fairly reckless with it (being the only piece he had really moved for the past several turns), it was surprising she hadn't been able to capture it earlier.

Satisfied that her victory was within grasp, Camille leaned back practically smirking. Flip might be a horrible player, but he acted like he was a master. It annoyed her to no end, and she was going to enjoy crushing him.

"You're move," she said.

"What are we gonna do, Flip? We don't have that many pieces left."

Flip waved a hand at both of them, "Yeah, yeah. Don't rush me, I'm thinking."

"We're going to be here a while then aren't we?" Camille remarked.

Flip gave her a condescending look, and finally reached for a piece. With a decisiveness that was rare, Flip reached for a forgotten knight, slamming it down onto its new place, a twinkling glint in his eye.

Camille felt her mouth go dry when she realized what just happened. Flip had just checkmated her newly-exposed king. Staring down at the board, Camille's mind raced. _How did this happen?! This is a fluke, it has to be! I just got complacent, because no way this idiot just outsmarted me. _Camille looked up, shock on her face and met Flip's eyes. The fierce glint was still there, and Camille felt comprehension brewing in her belly. _Did he just trick me when he sacrificed his queen? But that knight has been there forever. There was no way he knew I would expose my king, not in a way that should have exposed it to that knight. Unless....._

"Flip did we just we win?!" Nemo asked his mature voice boyish with excitement.

"I think we just did, kiddo! Ha, how do you like them apples, Princessy?"

The glint was gone from Flip's dark brown eyes now, but Camille couldn't think of anything to say. In the background she heard Flip and Nemo excitedly chatting to themselves as Camille realized something – it coiled around her heart and gave it a cold squeeze. _The man who just checked me, that's not the Flip I know. Or is it?_

_- Fool me twice, shame on you -_


	5. Chapter 5

A Motley Fool – Ch5: [Title] – [prompt#17_Newspaper; History Book] [Flip/Camille]

* * *

_He who asks is a fool for five minutes, but he who does not ask remains a fool forever. –_

_

* * *

_

The almost innocent whistle announced his old friend's presence. Nemo ran his fingers through his hair with a sigh. Flip may have been his first, and, likely, still his best friend in Slumberland but he was also the one that got him into the most trouble. If Flip had one of his usual schemes hatching in that gigantic top hat of his, Nemo was going to mentally prepare himself. Though, Nemo had to admit that Flip wasn't nearly as troublesome as he used to be.

Pushing aside the heavy text he was pouring over Nemo greeted Flip with a sombre, "Hey." Icarus, resting on Nemo's shoulder, chirped in salutation.

"Hey yourself, kid. Got a minute?" Flip responded.

Nemo looked longingly at his textbook. He had several chapters more to go, and he _knew_ that Professor Genius was going to quiz him in the next lecture. At the same time, it was giving him a headache. Alchemy was worse than math, and there were so many complicated symbols to remember. He could use the break.

"Sure, Flip," Nemo said flipping the cover of the text close, "what's up?"

Flip gestured for Nemo to follow, "Take a walk with me, will you?"

They wandered down the monstrous halls of the palace. Flip was silent, his strides purposeful. Nemo stayed quiet and let his mind wander, feeling the comfortable weight of Icarus on his shoulder. Nemo could tell that whatever Flip was planning, it was big, just by the serious line of his mouth that bit around the cigar. It was a rare occasion when anything was dedicated that much attention. Speaking of attention, Nemo wondered how the hell Flip managed to slip in out of the palace as he pleased. He knew the old trickster had his ways, but still what was basic security anymore? Especially after the thing that happened during King Morpheus's speech earlier that week.

Flip finally decided to break the silence. "I need to ask you something."

Nemo shrugged. It was odd when Flip asked his advice on anything, normally it was the other way around. "I'm all ears."

The boy-heir saw Flip hesitate – it was in the way he worried away at the cigar in the corner of his mouth – before he spoke.

"Say you have a lady friend. And this lady friend thinks you've done something , she doesn't have any proof, but she thinks you did it all the same. What would you do to get back into her good graces and get your name clear?"

Nemo narrowed his eyes at Flip. "Flip, are being serious? _You're_ the one I go to for advice about girls, not the other way around."

Flip couldn't help but flinch, "Yeah, yeah, humour me, will you? This lady, well, let's just you're used to her type."

Nemo and Icarus huffed in unison. "Fine, Flip, if you say so. Have you tried your usual tricks? Flowers, candy, jewellery? Sweet nothings whispered into her ear at some candlelit dinner?"

Flip chewed on his cigar as he spoke, "Nah, I know those won't work. This needs special handling. This is why I came to you. She's got a, ah, bit of spirit. She won't take to those sorts of things. She'll see them for what they are – diversions."

Icarus chirped something probably offensive about Flip's womanizing, while Nemo hummed in thought, "Well, what did you do?"

There was a defensive hunch in Flip's shoulders. "What makes you think I did anything?"

"Because I _know_ you, Flip."

A reluctant sigh. "Fine, I did something, but she's overreacting! It was just a joke!"

"Come on, Flip, spill, I can't help you otherwise," Nemo urged.

A mumbled curse preceded Flip's reply. "I pulled a prank on someone she knows. She took it as a personal insult."

"Have you tried apologizing?" Nemo queried.

The younger boy found himself caught in a flat stare. "No, Nemo, I didn't think about admitting to something she has no proof I did."

"But you just admitted you did do what you did to me! And you want her to be not mad at you right?"

Flip flung his hands in the air in aggravation. "That's different. You forget, dear boy, that woman have longer minds than elephants. You think a matter is dead and they bring it back in a completely unrelated topic to guilt you! Oh no, I won't let myself be victimized on any occasion she chooses! What I need is to convince her to forgive me without admitting she needs something to forgive me for."

Nemo was wearing a confuddled look on his face. "That seems a little complicated, Flip. It'd just be easier to apologize."

The young heir couldn't help but flinch at the older man's pointed stare. "Well, it would," muttered Nemo. Icarus seemed to agree with him, because the little squirrel was grumbling in Nemo's ear.

"I don't know what else to say, Flip. I'm really not the best person to ask. You know what though," Nemo said, as sudden idea came to him, "I think I know someone who might! We could ask Camille!"

Flip's face looked like he has just bit into a sour lemon. "Nemo, I don't think ..."

Eager, Nemo interrupted his friend's argument, "Oh, come on, Flip! Who better to ask how to fix your girl problems than a girl! I'm sure she's around somewhere close by."

Again, Flip tried to discourage the idea, "Honestly, Nemo, I'm sure the princess is busy. We shouldn't bug her."

At that, Nemo had to laugh. "Flip, you _love_ to bug, Camille. It's like your new favourite hobby. If you were one of my friends from school I would have sworn you were mooning over her."

The older man was affronted by this. "I don't _moon_ over anyone, kid. Never have, never well."

"Okay, okay, sorry, Flip. It was a joke. But why don't you want to see Camille? Oh, wait." A light blub seemed to go off in Nemo's head, that was before he promptly started to laugh. "Are you serious?"

Cautious, Flip asked, "Care to share what's so funny, kid?"

"Are you embarrassed to ask Camille for advice about _girls_?" Nemo managed to say between bouts of laughter, almost dislodging Icarus from his shoulder.

When no response but a quiet angry stare Nemo sobered. "Look, I'm sorry I poked fun, Flip. Honest. Don't worry, when I ask Camille I'll make sure I don't mention you at all. I'll say it's advice for a friend."

"A gentleman doesn't ask a lady's advice about how to woo another lady, Nemo. It just isn't done," Flip seemed to quote from some unknown source. Likely himself.

"I'm sure Camille won't mind."

Flip responded with a curt, "No, Nemo."

The younger boy deflated at this. Flip was being pretty touchy about the whole thing. For as long as he had known him, Flip never seemed to get overly sensitive over woman. _Maybe it's because he plays them like a fiddle, and he exchanges them faster than loose change._

Flip seemed to pick up on Nemo's poor spirits. "Don't worry, Nemo. You've given me some food for thought. Thanks for your help! See ya around, kid!"

XxXxXxXxXxXxX

Nemo sunk into the luxurious cushions of the loveseat with a sigh. "I think Flip is mad at me," the heir announced. Icarus scurried from the boy's shoulders to his lap, curling into a comfortable fuzzy ball.

"What makes you say that?" Camille responded, looking up from her embroidery. They were sitting in Camille's sewing room. A large space with the tall ceilings common to the rooms of the palace and was made of the same warm coloured marble. Rouge coloured rugs littered the floor in an organized way and worked well with the dark wood of the furniture.

"Well, he asked for some help, and I couldn't give him any."

"Maybe it's for the better, then. You know he always gets you into a load of trouble," Camille spoke airily.

"It wasn't something like that. It was, well ..."

Camille arched an eyebrow. "Go on."

"Promise not to tell I said anything?" Nemo pleaded.

The smile on Camille's face was benign, the look in her eye, however, was certainly not. "Cross my heart."

"Okay, Flip apparently did something to insult a lady friend of his. He pulled a prank on one of her friends, I think. He wanted to know how he could apologize, without really apologizing. I didn't know, and I said we should ask you, and then he got all huffy about it. I haven't seen him since. What do you think I should do"? Nemo spilled. He hadn't meant to say so much, but talking to Camille was far too comfortable. She was like a big sister he could always talk to.

Camille seemed to be fascinated with her embroidery, and Nemo distantly wondered if she had heard him. Just as he was prepared to ask her if she had been listening, Camille's head shot up with a curious look in her eye.

"You said he was sorry for what he did?"

Nemo nodded. "Surprising, I know. I can count the number of apologies he's given me on my fingers. Isn't that right, Icarus?" The little flying squirrel huffed in agreement.

"Did he specify it was that he exactly did?" Camille inquired.

"Nah. He just said it was a prank. Must have been big, though."

"Flip has never been one to do in half measures when it comes to his pranks," Camille agreed, an angry edge to her tone.

"Yeah, that's Flip for you." Nemo couldn't help but add with a snort, "not to mention secretive. I couldn't get him to tell me what he did, and I couldn't get the girl's name either. All he told me was that she was _spirited_ whatever that means."

Camille froze, and then went back to her embroidery with a small "oh." A small smile was creeping at the corner of her mouth.

Silence prevailed in the sewing room. The only noise was the soft _whisk_ as needle and thread went through fabric.

Nemo broke the quiet with a question. "All this talk of pranks reminded me about Morpheus. Is anyone close to figuring out who set off all those fireworks during his speech last week?"

Camille looked up from her needlework, wearing a soft look that Nemo thought he should have recognized. "No, no one has been able to figure out who did it. But father wasn't harmed by it, and it didn't seem to have any political importance. So it couldn't have been from one of the other kingdoms. You know what I think it was?"

"What?" Nemo responded, scratching at Icarus's ears.

"A prank, just a silly little prank that was just taken too far," Camille said with a forgiving smile.

* * *

_- A diamond with a flaw is worth more than a pebble without imperfections. –_


	6. Chapter 6

_A Motley Fool – Ch6:[ A Fine and Private Place ] – [prompt#2_Secret] [Flip/Camille]_

* * *

"_Secrets are made to be found out with time."_

* * *

She wasn't sure, but Camille had an idea that Flip was acting strange. Well, strange for him, anyways. He was quiet, despondent, not to mention distracted. He also seemed to be avoiding her. Camille had only caught glimpses of him and he didn't seem all that interested in talking to her. The quiet rejection stung. Nemo didn't seem to understand what was wrong with Flip, which just added to the mystery.

_I hope he's not in any sort of trouble,_ Camille couldn't help but think as she strolled down the market outside of the palace. _Since when have you cared what mud that trickster gets himself stuck into?_ A voice in her head asked.

_I'm not worried, just concerned, _Camille asserted. _Besides, if it was anything really deep I'm sure he would have asked for my help._

_Oh yes, _the voice responded coldly, _because you're _such_ bosom friends._

Camille couldn't help as her pace slowed at t_hat _thought_._ What was the relationship between her and Flip? They were spending time together, but, really, it was just Flip inserting his presence randomly into her life. That didn't really count as friendship did it? Even if it did, she knew next to nothing about him. He was just this annoying enigma that she was used to her having her life. It was a presence she was missing, she was discovering, but did that still constitute as a friendship? Did Flip think a princess so many years his junior a friend? Did they share anything for a basis of a friendship?

_Why is this bothering me so much?_ Camille wondered as she walked down the cobbled market street.

As if her thoughts had summoned him, Camille caught a glimpse of a familiar red jacket and a sunburst-yellow waistcoat. In a flash she ducked into a market stall, pulling up the hood of her cloak to hide her distinctive hair. Pretending to be interested in the wares -fresh caught fish- she watched Flip stroll past with the same blank expression she had caught him with for the past week.

He walked further down the street, until he arrived at the aromatic stall of a florist. As Camille watched (and half listened to the stall owner try and sell his fish to her) Flip perused the stall, before he found a bouquet of flowers he deemed satisfactorily.

The princess couldn't help the scorn that grew in her heart. _For one of his newest little hussy conquests, no doubt, _thought Camille as snorted dismissively (the stall owner took offense and gave his attention to another customer). Camille watched Flip weave his way past her in the crazy market throng and noticed something. There was a distinct lack of a bounce in his step, and the smile on his face wasn't its usual smarmy grin. _That doesn't look like a man about to see a lover. Curiouser, and curiouser._

On impulse she followed him, making sure that she kept a safe distance from him, so he wouldn't easily spot her if he casually glanced back. Flip didn't stay long in the marketplace – he quickly went down one of the busy footpaths that lead out into the city. Flip made a meandering course, down streets and cutting through alleyways; it was clearly a route he had taken numerous times. Camille was already hopelessly lost – they were in one of the older sections of the city which were far from the palace and her usual wanderings. Camille forced herself to keep farther and farther away as less and less people milled about.

_What am I doing? I'm going to have a horrible time getting back to the market. And what if Flip catches me? I don't have a decent excuse to explain me being here in this part of the city._ The princess sighed as she followed another turn Flip had made down an alley.

_Maybe I should turn ba-_ Her thoughts were derailed when she realized she had walked into a dead end. There was no sign of Flip, and there was a wall that capped the high-walled alley, making the alley a dead end. The only way in or out was where she was standing.

_Now how did I manage to get so twisted around? I was sure he turned down this way..._

A polite cough made her whirl around so fast she almost tripped over her own skirts.

"Flip?" Camille almost squeaked, wincing at the crack in her voice.

A shark's grin was on the man's face as he spoke, "For future reference, Princessy, wearing your hood up when you're following someone is a tad bit obvious. You don't have to take the term 'cloak and dagger' so literally, you know."

"I wasn't following you! I'm just taking a walk!" She lied.

The trickster gave Camille a look that clearly said he didn't believe her. "You had best be getting home, Princessy, I'd hate for you to miss your curfew. Have a good evening." Flip drew away.

Camille ground her teeth at his patronizing tone. It was infuriating when he treated her so dismissively, like she was some troublesome child. "Fine, a _good evening_ to you, too. I hope she enjoys the flowers," she spat. The princess made to stalk away, but Flip seemed to move in front of her like water. The man was nimble for someone with his wide waist, and even bigger feet.

"I'm detecting a disgruntled tone, Princess."

"I'm not disgruntled." Camille tried to go around Flip, but the man blocked her way again.

"I know disgruntled, Princessy, and you're disgruntled."

"I already told you, I am _not_ disgruntled, and don't you have places to be!" Camille almost shouted, still failing to get past Flip.

"I can always take time out of my day for you, Princess. And if you're not disgruntled then could you be..." a sly look slid across the man's painted features, "a little jealous, perhaps?"

_Figures, I don't see him for more than several weeks and now I can't get rid of him!_ Camille thought as she blushed at Flip's comment. She retorted with a scathing remark. "Is there something worth me being jealous over? Because I don't see any such thing."

"Oh, such venom," Flip commented as he stepped in front of her again, effectively blocking her.

"Do me a favour, Flip, disappear. You seem to have gotten really good at it the past few weeks," the Princess hissed, hurt adding a nasty edge to her voice. Camille finally managed to brush past her verbal-sparring partner.

"Is that what's bothering you?" Flip asked, right on her heels.

Camille wanted to scream in frustration. No matter how nasty she seemed to get, he always seemed to come back for more._ One of these days I'll have to try being nice to him and see if that scares him off._ "That's not what's bothering me, Flip. What's bothering me is how I've had to listen to Nemo worry about you. I don't care what you do with your personal life, but at least have the decency to give Nemo a warning if you're going to disappear for weeks with whatever new _amour_ you happen to have." It wasn't a complete lie: Nemo _was_ worried, but Camille couldn't deny that so was she. He didn't need to know that, though.

Camille felt a hand lightly grasp her wrist.

"It isn't an _amour_, as you put it, that's been keeping me preoccupied," Flip offered.

"Then what are the flowers for?" Camille countered, staring straight ahead. Flip still hadn't let go of her wrist; she could feel the dry warmth of his fingers against her pulse.

"It's just better if I show you," Flip offered, leading her gently to walk with him down the street.

Excuses sprang from Camille's head but died at the back of her throat. Flip must have caught her hesitation because he added, "This way you can let Nemo that he doesn't have to worry. Besides, I'd like you to get introduced."

Camille could almost feel herself deflate with defeat, especially at Flip's cryptic message, "Oh, very well then. I suppose I'll go."

"Thought you'd see it my way," Flip commented, tucking her arm into the crook of his elbow. Like a proper gentleman ought to do for a lady. Despite their height difference it wasn't as terribly awkward as one might think. Flip lead the way, the flowers in his other hand.

_Good grief, I hope no once sees us. Otherwise there'll be wild speculations, _was the passing thought in Camille's mind as they wound their way down the quiet streets. They were in a part of the city that Camille definitely did not recognize, though it had some of the oldest buildings she had seen. The brick houses were cloistered together, cramped and almost falling into each other. The roofs were mismatched; some were thatched whilst others were shingled or even had aged-green copper. The stones that paved the street were well worn, even broken in places, with rain water collected into puddles. There was laundry hanging high above their heads, like white flags waving in the wind. The doors were brightly coloured, with no rhyme or reason: a certain man couldn't but be brought to mind as Camille admired them in their bright audacity.

Camille almost wanted to ask where she was, but they were already passing through the gates into some park. The grass was a lush green, with proud trees sweeping their broad branches across the sky. There was a revered silence that pervaded the air and Camille felt that silence settle around her. As they followed a gravelled path, Camille's eyes widened as she saw several headstones breaking through the earth. They were hard to see because most had soft moss growing on their aged surfaces, but once she was able to distinguish the first the rest were easy to spot.

_Oh dear, perhaps I shouldn't have come along. Knowing Flip he's bound to be up to no good in a place like this. Though even _he_ must have some respect for the dead..._

Flip broke her thoughts, "Watch you footing, Princess, it's a little rocky back here." They were now going off the path and towards a copse of gnarled trees. Camille forced herself to bite her tongue. She didn't feel like arguing with Flip in a cemetery, and she very much doubted her capacity to be civil at the moment. It was better to be silent as Flip helped her down the slope down into the bosk.

"It's not far, now" Flip offered, leading her by the elbow once again, "Just, please be polite. I want you to give your best impression."

Camille nodded, wondering what deep-end Flip had fallen off of when they broke through into a small clearing. This part of the cemetery seemed quieter and it seemed to be rather undisturbed. There were deep piles of fermenting leaves from winters past at the base of the trees. These trees seemed to be wilder in comparison to the better manicured grounds of the rest of the cemetery. There were even wild flowers growing. It was clearly a place that seemed to have been forgotten by the world.

_Or maybe not so much..._ Camille noticed when Flip went forward and brushed off leaf debris and some lingering moss on a humble headstone. The trickster knelt, removing his hat and placing the flowers carefully in front of the headstone.

A moment passed, Flip with his head bowed and Camille watching on, before Flip's voice broke the tranquil silence. "Well? How can I introduce you if you're way over there?"

Chastised, Camille settled herself next to Flip. Nervous fingers flickered over her dress, smoothing it. She could see the faded inscription carved in the stone – _Emogene: Beloved wife and mother._

"Mum," Flip addressed the headstone, "This is the Princess Camille. Princess, my mum."

All that Camille could manage was a hushed, "Hello." The princess was rather shocked, and her mind was slow to respond.

Flip just nodded with approval as he ploughed into a conversation, telling his passed mother about how he knew King Morpheus' proud daughter. Camille watched on as Flip talked with usual charm and charisma, as if his mother was actually listening. It was the most animated she had seen him all week. She could feel the tugs of empathy in her heart.

_She must have really meant something to him. I wonder what happened to her? It's strange to think that Flip of all people has parents, but why is that really surprising? Everyone has parents, and some even lose them. It's just that he never talks about them, even in passing. I wonder if his father is alive? Does Flip have brothers? Sisters?_

The red-head's thoughts swirled until they were interrupted by Flip's warm hand on her shoulder. "Princess, it's time to go, say good bye."

Camille bowed her head in respect in the direction of the grave, "Good bye, it was a pleasure."

Flip lead the way, but he didn't offer his arm like he had earlier. Silence, this time of the unpeaceful variety, stretched between them as they passed through the bosk and back to the path. A solemn expression was firmly placed on Flip's face, his hands deep in his pockets as he walked. The princess couldn't help the pangs of sympathy she felt, but she stayed silent. It was both out of respect and a lack of the right thing to say.

They were almost at the exit when Flip finally spoke, "I'd prefer if you didn't tell Nemo the exact details about today. Just let him know that I'll be right as rain in a few days. I don't need him getting into my business. Kid means well, but he's a little too _sensitive_, I don't need him asking me about my feelings."

Camille nodded but couldn't help but ask, "Aren't you worried about _me_ asking about your feelings? I am a _girl_ and we do tend to be sensitive."

Flip flashed her a shadow of one his old grins, "I have a suspicion you already know what it feels like, meaning you don't have to ask because you know. You know?"

Camille nodded, her thoughts centered on a small garden with roses in the back of the palace that her father rarely had the courage to visit. "Yes, I suppose I do."

She also knew that Flip wasn't going to be alright in a couple of days. He probably hadn't been 'alright' ever since he had been forced to visit his mother at her grave. It always seemed to surprise her time and time again how good of an actor and a con artist Flip really was.

* * *

"_Death is not the greatest loss in life. The greatest loss is what dies inside us while we live." -_

* * *

_A/N:_ Oh look, I think I see some progress! My apologies to the handful of writers for this particular ship. These chapters are so darn wordy and take a lot to write and edit. It may take me a while, but chapters are worked on forever slowly and this will get finished sooner or later.


End file.
